


The Statue in the Park (Oneshot)

by sootforbrains



Category: Sleepy Boys Inc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25415275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootforbrains/pseuds/sootforbrains
Summary: Every night, Tommy waits at the statue for Techno to come home.And every morning, he walks away, still all alone.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 876





	The Statue in the Park (Oneshot)

Tommy let his backpack drop to the ground with a muffled thunk.

Lowering himself beside it, he ran a hand through his hair and glanced up, letting his eyes settle on the statue. He'd memorized every detail, every curve and every sharp edge; every flaw (a spot on the hilt of the sword that had chipped away sometime last week) and every weather-beaten side (rain had made the base of the thing--which was made entirely of copper--wilt away, giving it the impression of the fresh soil used to cover a coffin). 

As he settled on his knees, he winced as the concrete bit at his scabs--all of which were covered by band-aids, but some were newer, rawer. More susceptible to ruin.

Wilbur didn't have to ask about them anymore; he knew as well as all of them did that they were a result of the jagged concrete at the statue's base.

_Is something bothering you, Tommy?_

Tommy let his chin rest upon the base of the statue. His eyes were beginning to droop; fatigue was imminent tonight, on his heels like an eager dog. 

There was a murmur of sadness that rippled through him, once. Just once, never more. It had become less pronounced over the weeks, as expansive as the settling night above him. Around him, crickets sang their praises, church hymns of the darkness. He took comfort in them, the crickets, for they were constant. Never changing, always the same.

He wished all things could stay the same forever.

_I'm alright, Wilbur. I just wish I knew where he'd run off to._

Smoothly, Tommy slipped easily into sleep. As he sank, his chin slipped backward and he crumpled fully at the base of the statue, the blanket stuffed into his backpack gone unused for the third night in a row. 

_Me too, buddy. Me too._

\----

Every night, Techno returned to the little square in the center of the park. And every night, he was baffled at the fact that they'd actually done what they'd promised. They'd actually put up a statue for him, in anticipation of his return. 

He studied it now, wonder blossoming in his gut. They'd gotten the angle of his chin wrong, but that was alright. Somehow, they'd managed to make him look brave.

He glanced down; and sure enough, there was Tommy, sprawled upon the concrete like a rag doll, snoring softly. Techno's lips peeled involuntarily into a smile; the familiar warmth of melancholy began to take root in his gut, as it always did. For every night, Techno expected the base of the statue to be empty. He expected the boy to give up. To move on like the rest of them.

But Tommy never did.

"Oh, Tommy." It blew out between his lips like a breeze. How he wanted to reach out, to shake him awake, to make sure he knew that everything was going to be okay. How he wanted to go back to those days in the arenas of training, back when Techno was nothing but a mentor, and Tommy nothing but a wide-eyed newbie, a boy who could barely form a coherent sentence without going slack-jawed with wonder at Techno's expertise. How Techno missed his hands guiding Tommy's sword, graceful skill clashing with fumbling nerves. How he missed watching Tommy win his first match. How Tommy's eyes had pickled with light, seemingly for the first time in his life; how Phil had taken them all out to dinner to celebrate like it was someone's birthday, someone's wedding, someone's anniversary; how Wilbur had pulled Techno aside and said, in that raspy whisper that meant he was utterly and completely serious, _you're doing great things with this one, dude. He's gonna go far._

And sure enough, Tommy had gone quite far. 

It was a shame Techno couldn't be around to congratulate him.

Moonlight made the statue glow white in the darkness of the park around them. The Techno before him looked like a celestial being, an angel of sorts. It was impossible how they'd managed to make him look like a god when he was anything but.

Tommy shifted in his sleep; Techno tensed, preparing himself to bolt. But Tommy remained unconscious, peacefully unaware of the shifting in the night around him.

It really was a shame.

"He misses you like crazy, you know."

Techno turned heart climbing into his throat. His hand flew to the sword, still resting on his hip like a continuous companion, ready to draw it. 

But it was only Wilbur, standing at the treeline on the edge of the statue's clearing, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his winter coat. He peered at Techno calmly, almost calculating. It was unsettling.

"Wilbur." Techno smiled softly. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah." Wilbur stepped forward and nodded toward the sleeping Tommy. "Are you gonna wake him up? Let him know that you're alive?"

Techno grimaced. "You know I can't do that, Wil."

"Oh, I know." Wilbur continued to creep forward, his mouth a line in his face, eyes devoid of anything but cool indignation. It was almost like anger, frustration, confusion; but not quite. It was infuriating, this lack of reaction. 

Wilbur stopped just before Techno. The two looked at each other for a long moment; two disasters waiting to happen, hurricanes itching to form. Techno took his hand from his sword and offered it to Wilbur. Wilbur didn't take it. 

"What are you doing here?" Wilbur's tone was stone cold.

Techno blinked. "I'm here every night."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? I miss him." Techno's voice pulled taut. Wilbur was supposed to be ecstatic to see him. Wilbur was supposed to hug him, to welcome him home. To beg him to return. 

But instead, Wilbur was cold. Wilbur was distant.

Wilbur was angry.

"Then why don't you wake him up?" Wilbur took a step backward and pulled one hand free of his coat to gesture to Tommy. 

Techno sighed. "Wil."

"Techno."

"How's Phil doing?"

"Wake him up." Wilbur's voice was firm. Icy. 

"I can't." Techno's desperation was beginning to overtake him; he glanced back at the statue, at the way it shimmered in the moonlight. The way it dehumanized him and immortalized him at the same time.

He would never be as noble as this stone, he realized with a jolt. He was a coward. He was a runner.

And Wilbur knew it.

"Techno." Wilbur's tone had gone soft. His eyes were shimmering, darker than the night around them, swimming with emotion. "Please.

And Techno considered. He wondered what would happen if he were to kneel beside Tommy. If he were to grasp that shoulder and shake it.

He wondered what it would be like to see Tommy's eyes light up one last time.

But that couldn't happen. 

Techno shook his head and began to turn away from Wilbur. "I can't."

He coughed once, disguising the emotion in his tone. And he began to walk away.

"You're a coward." Wilbur's words were sharper than any sword Techno had ever had to face in a duel, heavier than any weapon he'd had to wield in battle. He let them hit him in their full force. 

Techno sighed, pulling himself together. He walked over to the backpack lying beside Tommy. As quietly as possible, he unzipped it and pulled out a woolen, knitted blanket. Softly, gently, he laid it over Tommy's sleeping form. _One last form of protection,_ Techno thought sullenly, as he straightened and faced Wilbur once again.

"I hope you're well, Wil," he whispered. "I really do."

Wilbur said nothing.

Techno turned away, taking one last look at the statue. He knew this would be the last time he came here, and he wanted to capture this version of himself in his mind, to hold it with him like one would a stuffed animal. Perhaps someday he could coat himself in it. Perhaps someday he could become it; a brave, steadfast warrior who didn't run from his mistakes, no matter how deadly they were.

Shaking his head, he tore his eyes from the stone figure and began to walk away. He could feel Wilbur's eyes on him, but he didn't turn around. 

No tears would be shed tonight. Not from Wilbur, who was beyond being upset, beyond mourning the loss of a friend who didn't care enough to stay. Not from Tommy, who always remained in the blissful, ignorant dark.

And certainly not from Techno, who was determined to make a better name of himself. He was determined to become what that statue told the world he was.

He would try not to miss them too much.

He would try not to think about the light in Tommy's eyes too often.


End file.
